Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke stood inside the building where the interviews were being held. The place, an old structure built from pale stone, had the kind of solidity that suggested it was designed to outlive generations. The wide walls seemed to hold onto the echoes of everything that happened inside them. The building became one of the busiest points in the region: crowded corridors, hurried footsteps, voices overlapping from room to room.

There were many Americans in the tutorial. He figured it was because he himself was American, so it made sense that the tutorial had placed him in a location where Americans made up the majority of the population.

Earlier that morning, interviews had dragged on for more than half an hour each. But as the hours passed, the whole process began to pick up speed. The officers already had enough information to streamline everything, and the line moved with more confidence and less tension. Luke kept watching the people who left the interview rooms. Some looked relieved.

“Next,” called a firm voice.

A woman stood at the doorway, clipboard in hand. Luke straightened up. His turn.

The moment he stepped through the door, the noise hit him from every direction. Conversations, boots striking stone, and the clatter of wooden bowls and cups somewhere off to the side. The room must have been a cafeteria not long ago. Rows of long tables, support columns, a high ceiling that amplified every sound. Now it had been transformed into a makeshift command center, with soldiers weaving between desks, stacks of papers stuffed into crates, and temporary workstations scattered around.

He walked between tables, dodging clusters of people arguing over logistics. The smell of strong coffee mixed with the scent of old wood, creating a strange contrast that said the same thing as the walls: this place was doing its best to function despite everything.

“Feel free to choose who you want to interview with,” said a man about Luke’s age. His uniform was simple, but the tiredness in his face suggested he’d been there since dawn.

“That woman over there,” Luke answered, giving a small gesture in her direction.

She lifted her head from her clipboard. Her eyes locked on him for a brief, sharp assessment before she gave him a nod to approach.

They walked toward a side door that led to a quieter room being used for more formal interviews. Voices carried from inside, lively and overlapping, people busy with forms and notes.

Inside, Luke noticed two people holding clipboards beside a man seated at a small table.

“Judith, right?” Luke asked.

“That’s me. And you’re the guy who almost gave me a heart attack earlier,” Judith replied, perfectly calm. “This is Amit, my colleague. He got lucky and ended up with very few Indians in the tutorial, so he’s got extra time.”

“And unlucky enough to be stuck doing paperwork,” Amit muttered, rolling his eyes just slightly.

Luke took a seat on a simple wooden chair, the edges worn smooth. Judith sat across from him, clipboard already poised. The two others shifted position and prepared their pens, ready to jot down every detail as if assembling another piece of some massive bureaucratic puzzle.

“What’s your name?” Judith asked.

“Luke Moon,” he replied.

“And where are you from, Luke Moon? Were you born or naturalized as a U.S. citizen?”

“I was born in the United States. I’m from Maine.”

Judith made a few quick marks on the form. While she worked, Luke noticed Amit quietly sketching his face. The strokes were quick and confident, the kind of ease that came from someone used to drawing people without thinking too much about it. Luke guessed it was either a profession skill or plain talent.

“Has your family always lived in the United States, or are they immigrants?” she continued. “You don’t have to answer that part if you’d rather not.”

Luke didn’t see any reason to avoid it.

“I was adopted when I was five. My biological mother… she died and left me with another family who took me in.”

Judith jotted everything down, her expression blending sympathy with professional focus.

“It’s sad that happened, but I’m glad you found a family who adopted you,” she said gently.

“She didn’t have any family?” Amit asked, without fully lifting his eyes from the drawing.

“No. She was abandoned as a child and lived in an orphanage called Moon. My registered name is Luke Moon. She got that last name from the orphanage since no one in her family ever claimed her, and it ended up being passed down to me.”

Judith paused mid-writing, as if mentally rearranging the information before continuing.

“It must have been hard living in that tutorial. Nine years… an entire place acting like a parallel world,” she murmured, still struck by the thought. “How long were you there?”

“One year.”

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“Luke, what’s your class?” asked someone else in the room, one of the clipboard holders.

“Archer,” he answered.

It was simple and harmless. His real class, assassin, wasn’t exactly friendly on paper.

Amit tapped his fingers on the table.

“Some people in that place managed to reach peak Rank and are now Rank E. They’re a lot stronger than most of us,” Amit said. “Are you Rank F or E?”

Luke chose honesty. Not out of naivety, but because it made it easier for them to grasp the actual level of power they were dealing with. Sometimes transparency was a sharper weapon than any lie.

“Rank E.”

Amit let out a sharp whistle. “And here I was feeling special for being level thirty. And you’re level fifty.”

The reaction made a few people exchange looks. No hostility, just shock. It was like staring at a decorated veteran surrounded by fresh recruits.

“What’s your Rank skill?” someone in the room asked.

Luke didn’t hesitate. His gaze turned cold, direct.

“I’m not telling you.”

The words dropped into the room with weight. One of the military personnel, the same one who’d asked, shifted in his chair, leaning forward in a clumsy attempt at authority.

“Look… if you don’t cooperate very much, we’ll prioritize those who do, and you know… it’ll take longer for you to return to modern society,” he said, trying to sound firm but letting a faint threat slip between the lines.

Luke stayed silent for half a second, just long enough to show he’d understood exactly what they were doing. Then, without changing expression, he rose from his chair with a calm, deliberate movement.

He started toward the door.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Judith asked, startled and visibly worried.

“I’m leaving,” Luke said, already reaching for the handle.

“Wait, hold on,” Judith said quickly, stepping toward him. “Listen, man, all of us have been working in this place for years. I honestly thought it was some kind of punishment assignment. We just want to do our jobs right.”

Luke turned just enough to look at the group.

“If you’re going to get in my way or try to squeeze information out of me, I don’t mind walking out and finding my own way back to the modern world.”

Judith let out a slow breath and lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender. “If you don’t want to share something, that’s fine. It won’t mess up the process. We’re just curious about you guys too.”

Luke swept his gaze across the six people holding clipboards, all staring like they were waiting for him to suddenly reconsider.

“If you want me to continue this interview, then the guy who tried to intimidate me leaves. And everyone else too. One or two people is more than enough. Or do you really need six people to write something down?”

A ripple of embarrassment moved across the room. Some looked away. Others glanced at Judith, silently nominating her to defuse the situation before it exploded.

Judith exhaled sharply.

“All right, everyone. Out. Only me and Amit stay.”

One by one, they filed out of the room, a few relieved, a few annoyed, but all eager to escape the tension.

When the door finally closed, only Luke, Judith, and Amit remained.

“Skip the unnecessary questions,” Luke said as he sat back down. His tone wasn’t hostile, just bone-deep tired. “You know what I just came from. It was hell.”

Judith and Amit exchanged a look that spoke more clearly than any sentence.

“I’ll be straight with you, Luke,” Amit said, leaning forward slightly, like he was approaching something delicate. “A parallel world where everyone got trapped in some kind of medieval post-apocalyptic society isn’t exactly a common occurrence. Then you fought an army of undead, got rescued by stone statues, all while running from a cursed snowstorm toward a castle hanging over an abyss. It’s really…”

He shook his head, still looking like he couldn’t quite believe the report he’d read. His expression was a perfect blend of fascination, disbelief, and a kind of nervous humor.

“…a movie script.”

“Or a book,” Judith added with a tired half-smile. She rested the clipboard on her knee and let out a slow breath. “And trust me, we’ve heard stories here in the New World about places where insect creatures the size of buildings make their hives. Dungeons that appear like natural phenomena with insane events. And still, your group’s story managed to surprise me.”

“Since you already know what happened from everyone else’s testimony, just finish asking whatever is essential,” Luke replied. His voice was flat, practical.

Amit flipped through a stack of pages clipped to his board. He seemed more relaxed now that the air wasn’t so charged.

“All we really needed was your name and where you’re from. The rest goes to your country’s authorities,” Amit said. “And it looks like everything’s already prepared on both sides, here in the village and back in your world. The moment they confirm your name as one of the participants, someone on the modern-side will type a few commands into a computer and, on paper, Luke Moon will officially come back from the dead.”

Luke looked away for a moment. It was strange realizing that, on paper, he had been declared dead. Officially nonexistent. A ghost with documentation.

Judith lowered her clipboard with care.

“Your position in the army. As an archer you must have seen a lot. What do you know about the main group that went to the castle?”

Luke frowned. “Nothing’s been revealed yet?”

Judith tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture tight and anxious.

“That woman, Erza…” she began. “She told everyone outside that anyone who dared reveal certain important things would die. And she gave us the warning as well. She’s a noble from the World Government, after all. We can’t exactly defy her.”

Luke let out a nearly silent sigh. That sounded exactly like something Erza would do.

“Then don’t feel obligated to tell us anything you don’t want to,” Amit said. “However…”

He cleared his throat, subtle but loaded with intent. Luke lifted his eyes, curious.

“We need to know one thing. It has nothing to do with our job. It’s about a personal bet.”

Luke blinked, confused. Nothing about their posture hinted at hostility, but the situation was getting weird.

He stared at the two of them, waiting for an explanation.

“So… was there, by any chance, a kaiju in that place?” Amit asked, somehow managing a mix of excitement and secondhand embarrassment.

Judith snapped her head toward him so quickly her chair protested with a creak.

“Again with that?” she said.

Amit leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head as if the question were perfectly normal. Still, there was a childlike anxiety shimmering in his eyes.

“It’s kind of obvious from the way he talks that he trusts his own skills,” Amit said. “So I figured maybe he ended up in a higher position in the army and even saw the main group that went to kill the king.”